Just Let Go
by Nathalie Andrews
Summary: Mohinder finds himself face to face with Sylar again, but this time Peter won t be there to save him! A complete one-shot. Enjoy!


A Mylar Story

Letting Go

… … …

"He is here."

Molly's dark eyes had gone wide and fearful, as the eight year olds thin lips shivered forth the words. Mohinder looked down upon the childish face. There was no need to ask her of whom she spoke off. He felt his own fear like a tight numb lump in his chest, which threatened both his breathing and his ability to think rationally. Earlier, Mohinder had trapped this someone, believing to be in control of the situation, and then tried to take his life. After the phrase; "I was not begging for my life, I was offering you yours." the bad guy had almost killed him. If Peter had not appeared, he would have succeeded.

Mohinder shrugged nervously, before throwing the equipment hastily in a black leather bag, next to the frightened child next to him. She sat on the flat bed in hospital clothing, with her long brown hair falling in soft curls down her shoulders.

"We have to go." whispered Molly.

Without hesitating Mohinder swept her up in one of his arms, and grabbed the bag with his other. He rushed them through the room, and into the hallway outside. It seemed oddly empty, and the lights were flickering above them. The walls wore a sickening shade of pale grey, and in the half dark they almost hurt his eyes. He turned around and went down to his left, only to find that the door in the end was locked. He pulled at it, frenetically, and hissed at the darkness. He felt the girl stir against his shoulder. Her small body weighed less than his leather bag. Then he heard a male voice from behind him. It was all too familiar, and he could feel his entire body go numb with fear.

"Mohinder?"

He turned around slowly, and saw Sylar standing there on the other side of the hallway. A pair of black eyes gleamed at him with an amused intelligence, the look of a cat that has caught himself a mouse, and fully intended to play with it. Mohinder felt his pulse speed up, and swallowed. It was suddenly difficult to control his breath, and for a moment he forgot the little girl on his shoulder. Sylar smiled shrewdly, and walked slowly towards them. He was wearing a pair of kaki military pants, and a black cutoff shirt.

Mohinder let the girl slip down on the floor, while she clung to his arm.

"Let the girl go, Sylar. You don't need her! Her power, it isn't special!"

His heavy black eyebrows rose.

"Oh, Mohinder, I wouldn't harm a hair on her sweet little head." He stopped, and did a somewhat hurt grimace. "I forgot. I would, and I will, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Peter will not save you this time. Aren't you going to run? Or try to shoot me? Go ahead; I am awaiting your next bold move, my friend."

Mohinder grabbed Mollys shoulder, and bent down to whisper something in her ear. Sylar seemed mildly irritated for a moment, and used his telekinesis to pull his feet from underneath him, so that he landed flatly on his back. He then dragged Mohinder towards him. As he came to an abrupt halt, almost right before Sylars feet, Mohinder quickly stood up, trying to pull back, towards Molly, who had sat down in the corner, with her knees covering her face.

Sylar lifted his hand, telekinetically threw Mohinder through the door next to them, back to the room they had escaped from. He crashed through a shelf of glass, and tipped over the laboratory bed Molly had been sleeping on, before falling with his back against an old radiator. She whimpered in the hallway. Sylar put a finger to his lip, smiling at her. Then he walked inside the room, after Mohinder.

Molly tried to get up back on her feet, but his eyes had frightened her, and she was shivering against the darkness of the hall around her. She could not hear anything from the room, but the door behind her was still locked. Suddenly someone came through the window ahead of her. Peter landed on the floor, and hurried up to her.

"Peter…" She whispered.

"I know, you must be quiet, Ill get you out of here." Peter said, and lifted the girl from the floor.

"Mohinder… He will kill him!" Said Molly, louder.

"Ill will be back for Mohinder, but you have to be quiet."

He flew out of the window with her, and few seconds later, Sylar stood at the door, staring out on the empty hall. He frowned, before turning around, going back inside the nursery.

Mohinder had gotten to his feet and reached for a gun in the holster by his ankle, but before he could pull it out, he found himself pushed up against the wall, telekinetically. Mohinder tried to draw his breath, but it was stuck somewhere in his throat. The fear made his heart ponder frenetically, and he could feel the blood of his pulse as a metallic taste in the back of his tongue.

The door behind them was blown open. Peter came in, looking rather vivid.

Sylar smiled shyly.

"Haven't I killed you before?"

"You've used that line already, now you are going to let him go!"

"I don't think so Peter. No. This time, I want some time to enjoy it. I and the professor have a lot to catch up!" He winked and waved goodbye, before stretching out to touch Mohinders face. The moment his fingertip touched Mohinders dark skin, the world became blurry, and suddenly Mohinder was on the floor. A different floor. He looked up, and saw Sylar triumphant before him, with his arms crossed over the broad chest.

"Teleportation?!" Mohinder just stared at him.

Sylar did not answer, just smiled in that quiet amusement, and let his eyes tell exactly what he wanted to do with him. Before he had taken as much as a step closer, Mohinder had pulled the gun up, and pointed it right at him. Peter could not save him this time. No one knew where they were. The thought made him feel sick. He was going to die this time. No one would stop Sylar, and he would enjoy killing him.

"You just don't learn, do you professor?" Sylar waved his hand in an indifferent motion. The gun landed somewhere under a peach green couch.

He then moved his hand again, and Mohinder felt the force of it push him up against the opposite wall.

"You're getting used to this now, aren't you? I think I prefer you in that position." Sylar winked.

"What?" Mohinders eyes narrowed, as Sylar came up close, trailing his cheekbone with a soft finger.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Go to hell!" Mohinder managed barely to moan forth the words, as the telekinetic grip held him too firmly pushed up against the cold wall.

"Tsk. The attitude. Peter was right, in a way. I won't get anything from killing you, unless you count pure enjoyment."

He bent forward and kissed Mohinders soft lips, almost gently. The oddess of it startled Mohinder, who just hung there soundlessly, unable to express any emotion to what the other man did. Sylar pulled away, and smiled shrewdly.

"How does this feel?" He said slowly.

Suddenly a sharp pain went through Mohinders stomach area. He tried to scream, but the sounds that came out were unrecognizable. It hurt so badly, he almost wished Sylar would kill him faster.

"What was that? You want to die faster?"

**Almost, he had thought. Almost.**

He didn't answer. Sylar did something, and the pain became so bad that Mohinder cried out. Warm tears began falling down his face. The sweat ran with the tears, and his eyelashes were dark and moist, as he almost begged with his eyes at the floor, for the pain to stop.

"Stop the pain? I don't think so. You're going to have to do better than that."

**Could the damned man hear his thoughts?**

"I can feel them, your every internal word." Sylar smiled. "If you want to die right now, just ask me. Beg me, and I will let you go. Ill let you go quickly, like I should have done, a long time ago."

The pain moved further upwards, and blood began gathering in the back of his throat. Like some internal damage in the stomach and chest area pushed the blood up through the system. He began feeling odd, and cold. Numbly, he realized that he was going into shock.

"Just ask. Beg me to let you go. Come on, old friend." Sylars dark and cold eyes met his own. "It kills me to see you suffer:"

Mohinder felt himself dying, a trembling sensation deep in his chest.

"Just… do it…" Mohinder felt his voice fade into the nothingness of the pain inside. Like small invisible knifes stabbing him over and over.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Please, kill me." Mohinder closed his eyes. That was all he had to give. All the strength he still had fell like tears from his dark skin. It was over, and he only wished the pain would be drained like his life was. It was in his chest now, which made it impossible to breath. His lungs were on fire as the piercing pain almost made him scream. The pain reached a peak, and the skin of his chest burst, a flood of ruby red blood streamed from his lungs and chest, coloring the white shirt he wore. Mohinder breathed, and discovered that the pain had decreased, along with the sense of feeling he had in his arms. His body felt distant, almost detached. He tried to raise his head, but found himself unable to do so. Sylar bent down, so that he could meet the other mans stare.

"How does it feel now? Better? You are almost dead already. It almost grieves me. Just almost. Just let go..."

Mohinder tried to answer, but the blood clotted in his throat. All the colors seemed to have disappeared from the room, and an echo in the back of his ear carried the weak beatings of his heart, which he noticed dimly was slowing down. He was dying. In few seconds, he would be dead. The thought did not feel threatening anymore. He closed his eyes, and felt himself silenced within, until even that faded.

...


End file.
